


Sacrifices Have to Be Made

by soyforramen



Category: Riverdale - Fandom
Genre: Dark, Horror, Violence, but no one's making it out of this town alive, flash fiction that went horribly out of control, wherein there was no black hood nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyforramen/pseuds/soyforramen
Summary: A different take on the murders plaguing Riverdale.





	Sacrifices Have to Be Made

At the start of the semester no one had put any stock in the rumors that had resurfaced. No matter what they’d heard about the murders forty years ago, Moose had been killed by a random shooter, his girlfriend saved only by the grace of god. But now that Midge had been crucified in the theater, her throat slit into an evil grin and a puddle of blood beneath her, those rumors began to take shape once more.

“Shame, really,” Cheryl said at lunch later that week. “For her to be killed like that? The only thing anyone will remember is that she died in that awful dress. I’d rather be found naked in the woods than be seen in something that awful.”  
Ethyl had thought the dress rather cute, pulled straight out of the 1940’s. Anyways, it was still cuter than anything Cheryl had worn, but Ethyl kept that thought to herself.

Two weeks later found Cheryl the next victim, dead in the woods wearing only a white sheath. Or so the rumors said. Dilton had found her on one of his ‘birding’ expeditions, and he’d never been much of a talker when it came to Cheryl Blossom. 

The bright, cheery light that greeted Betty the morning after Cheryl's funeral was in stark contrast to the grey skies yesterday. Unaffected, Alice went about her morning like wasn't a serial killer in town. As Betty walked into the kitchen, Alice pulled out another plate for the buffet spread across the counter.  
“I made pancakes,” she chirped.  
Betty glanced around the room only to find her long-lost brother sitting at the bar. He smiled at her and the grin stretched his face into a crude curse of a smile. She tore her eyes away and picked up her purse from the side table.  
“I’m not hungry, Mom.”  
Alice stopped where she stood and stared. “You have to eat something.”  
“How can I when people are dying around me and no one’s doing a thing?”  
“That’s enough, Elizabeth,” Alice snapped. “Now sit down and eat something.”  
The slam of the door against the frame was Betty’s only response.

“It’s like Katy Keene said before she moved to New York. Every forty-six years, Riverdale’s very own serial killer comes back to kill again,” Reggie said between classes.   
Ginger Lopez rolled her eyes and slammed her locker door, barely missing Reggie’s hand. “As if. Katy Keene lied about everything, especially being a model. Besides, wouldn’t this guy be super old by now?”  
“Not if he’s a ghost.” Reggie’s smile was sly as he slipped his arm around Ginger. “And I know all the best ways of keeping ghosts away. I’ll be more than happy to share them if -“  
Ginger slid away from Reggie and popped her gum. “Keep dreaming, meat head.”

Next week and it was Ginger’s funeral Betty found herself at. The fourth in as many weeks. Sober and broken, students couldn’t understand why this was happening. Why the _adults_ could let this happen. After all, they were the ones who were supposed to be protecting their children. But they were the only ones who seemed not to care.

“That Lopez girl had it coming,” Ms. Twyst said later at the memorial service. She sipped her punch and made a face as she dumped it back into the bowl. “It was probably one of those delinquents she’s always hanging out with.  
Mr. Reilly clicked his tongue. “Krista, you can’t say things like that. They’re ‘at-risk-youths’. Hand me one of those sandwiches will you?”

Veronica took the seat next to Betty in the common room, a grin stretched from ear to ear. “Reggie’s scored big this time. Enough Jingle Jangle and E to keep a party going for months. This is going to rival anything the Jonas’ Brothers ever tried to do. Who’s in?”  
“Do you really think that’s a good idea, V? There’s a mad man running around. Wouldn’t that put us all in more danger?” Betty glanced towards Archie.  
Across from them Archie returned Veronica’s grin. “I’m in. We’re all in danger, what happened to Sweet Pea is proof of that. Who knows how much time we’ve got left?”  
Veronica clapped her hands together and turned to Betty.   
“Sorry, Veronica, but I think I’m just going to stay with Jughead tonight.”

Their bodies weren’t found until three days later, tangled up together in the woods, not far from what remained of the other party-goers. Hermione was inconsolable at the funeral. Hiram, like most of the other parents, didn’t seem affected by the death of his child.

On their way home vultures swarmed the road. It wasn’t until Jughead nudged one of them with the truck that they began to move, unhappy with the interruption. As he maneuvered the truck through, Betty caught a glimpse of the doe they’d been eating. Already its face was covered in flies, eyes dead and lifeless.   
Before she could stop, Betty wondered if that’s how Veronica looked when she was found.

Hours after the funeral, Betty and Jughead huddled together in his father’s old Ford. With his arm around her she felt safe for the first time in weeks.   
“No one’s safe anymore, Jug,” she whispered as the rain began to hit the windshield. “We should get out of here now while we can.” Her breath caught and fresh tears began to fall.   
He kissed her forehead and pulled her closer. “We’ll leave next week, after my last paycheck comes in.”  
When he dropped her off at her house, he called out after her, “I’d give my heart and soul to keep you safe.”

Her heart pounded in her ears, lungs on fire as she ran. The phone call had been cut short and his phone went straight to voicemail. The thought of losing him too pushed her further, faster. By the time the trailer park came into view her legs were on the verge of collapse and she’d long ago forgotten what it felt like to breath.  
The door hung open, the kitchen lights guiding her up bloody steps. The scene inside was everything out of her worst dreams. Jughead lay on the floor, battered and bruised and bleeding, and Betty fell to the ground next to him. She cradled his head in her lap, openly sobbing.  
“Guess the rumors were right, after all,” Jughead rasped out. His voice rattled deep in his chest, a fragile and hollow thing. “He came to collect.”  
Her phone was slick with blood. She dropped it three times before she managed to dial for help.

Today there were only four in their grade left. Dilton and Val, Betty and Ethyl. They all moved as if in a dream, going through life’s motions on autopilot, their minds and souls unable to process what had happened. A fog lived on the edge of their reality, a protection against the darkness that surrounded them.   
At Jughead’s funeral Betty was barely aware of F.P. sobbing over the coffin while Fred did his best to comfort him despite his own recent loss. After, no one wanted to linger. Without a word, F.P. handed her Jughead’s second most prized possession, a USB filled with all of his writings since fourth grade. She watched, numb, as he climbed on top of his motorcycle and rode off. Fred laid a heavy hand on her shoulder as he passed but she was no more aware of him than she was of the passing time.

It took her an hour to get home, the USB heavy in her hand. When she arrived Betty stared at the red door, the same door Jughead had once joked was the portal to hell and Alice the harpy that guarded it. The memory of his smile brought fresh sobs, her body wracked with the pain it had kept at bay for so long. She cried out everything on the porch, her lungs gasped for air that wouldn’t come, her stomach ached with loss and despair.   
Betty cried for an hour, a day, a week. Maybe a month. And still no one came to comfort her. Her legs fought against gravity as she stood and her breath grated along her lips. When she found the strength she turned the knob and walked into the second place she’d known as home.  
“There you are darling, how was the funeral?”   
Horrified she watched as her mother swanned around the room to serve tea to Penelope and Clifford Blossom. The rest of the sitting room was filled with the older members of Riverdale’s founding families, parents who had all had a child murdered. The McCoy’s. The Mantles. Thomas Topaz. Mary Andrews. Hiram Lodge.   
Her own father was nowhere to be found.  
“Mom.” Her voice came out like a death rattle, like his last breath, like (oh god, the blood, the blood everywhere, they’re not coming they’re not coming why aren’t they -)  
Pain in her hands startled her back to the here and now. Betty cleared her throat and tried again. “Mom, what are all these people doing here?”  
Alice tsked and swept into the kitchen. Betty followed, angry at her mother’s demeanor. “I invited them. Can’t have a going away party without people, can we?”   
Betty fought off tears of exhaustion. “A party isn’t appropriate, Mom, no matter who's leaving town. All my friends are dead, can’t you just send them away? For me?”  
“This is for you dear. Besides, if I sent them away, all your friends will have died for nothing. Now take this to Mr. Lodge, he always did love a good cheesecake.” Alice shoved a plate into Betty’s hand and pushed her back towards the living room. Betty was too tired to argue, too exhausted to refuse, too hurt to understand what her mother was saying.  
Now there was a new addition to the room. In the back corner, almost invisible at first glance, skulked Chic. His very presence never sat right with her, tenfold more after everything that had happened. Betty handed the plate to Mr. Mantle and sent a prayer to escape this party without drawing her mother’s ire.   
“There you are, baby sister,” Chic’s breathy voice came over her left shoulder.  
Every cell in her body went ice cold and she froze, caught in his gaze. As she stared at him, the dead deer she’d seen after Veronica’s funeral came to mind. His eyes were dead, flat, lifeless. The corners of his eyes and mouth turned up, but there was no soul behind the movement. A shudder overcame her entire body and she had to sit down.  
No one else in the room seemed affected by Chic’s presence. If she hadn’t known of the horrors that had plagued the town, Betty would have thought this a PTA gathering or a neighborhood watch meeting. Unable to stop it, laughter began to bubble up in her quickly closing throat. One by one heads turned to look at her. She’d always suspected she would lose her mind one day; she just didn’t think it would be like this.  
“This is hell,” she managed to get out between giggles.  
Chic cocked his head, his neck bending at an almost ninety degree angle. “This is nothing like hell, baby sister. But it will be, now that you’re here.”  
Her laughter continued even as Chic lunged at her, clawing at her arms, her legs, her face, her stomach. She chuckled as he cut into her soft flesh and began to pull at her intestines. She guffawed as he ripped at the cartilage in her shoulders. She chortled as he ripped at the bones in her hands.  
It wasn’t until he’d pulled out her heart that the laughter ceased. The silence that ensued was more painful than any noise she’d made before.  
When it was done, Alice returned to the sitting room. She made a face at the mess and shook her head. “Couldn’t you have been a little cleaner?”  
Chic grinned up at her, his teeth smeared red. “Sacrifices do have to be made, mommy dearest.”


End file.
